The Lion King Re-Imagined
by ThatTexasKid
Summary: The Lion King Re-Imagined. What if Mufasa was an evil tyrant, and Taka (Scar) was a kindly advocate for Democracy? And what if they were all humans? Read in order to find out, and don't forget to leave a review! Rated T for violence, death, and language.
1. Prologue

**Hello all, and welcome to what will hopefully be my second successful story. Please don't forget to leave reviews, so I know what y'all are thinking and how I can improve my writing. I think I have done enough blabbing, so let's journey to the Prologue.**

_Nation Name: The Pridelands_

_Location: Central and Eastern Europe, Sicily (Claimed but uncontrolled. Land controlled by PHD (Pridelands Hammer of Democracy) Movement)_

_Population: 101.3 Million_

_Language: Southern US English_

_Head of State: King Mufasa II_

_Head of Government: King Mufasa II_

_Type of Government: Totalitarian Dictatorship/Absolute Hereditary Monarchy_

_Economy: Lumber, Mining, Manufacturing (All State Controlled)_

_Capital: Pride Rock_

_Literacy Rate: 93%_

_Life Expectancy: 48 Years_

_Largest City: Pride Rock (Pop. 11.27 Million)_

_Other Major Cities: Prague, Vienna, Innsbruck, Nuremburg, Berlin, Warsaw (Claimed but uncontrolled. City in control of the Polish Independence Movement), Budapest, Zagreb, Palermo (Currently under siege by Pridelands Hammer of Democracy)_

_HDI: 75.5 (Medium)_

_Most Similar To: Democratic People's Republic of Korea_

_Military: Red Army Reborn (200,000 Troops), Red Naval Force (100,000 Troops), Airmen of the People (50,000 Troops), Red Marines (30,000 Troops)_

_All information from the United States of America Nation Database. No current monitoring of device, all data secure._

The sun shone brightly over the city of Pride Rock. Yellow-Orange rays illuminated the struggling metropolis. Grass was non-existent, but the roads were not well paved, evidenced by the many cracks. All of the buildings were grey and dull, many of them slowly crumbling to ruins. There were not many stores, and the ones that existed were closed. Their signs were fading, but the words were still easily readable.

_**The King's Diner**_

_**Furniture of the Kingdom**_

_**Mufasa's Hardware**_

_**Royal Grocers**_

Thousands of Pridelanders wandered through the city streets, slowly making their way to the center of the city. The appearance of these people gave obvious clues to what their everyday life was. Their clothes were tattered, and some did not even have clothes, only rags patched together by strings made of human hair. Many of them had an eye-patch, and a lack of medical care led to rampant blindness. These people did not eat well, and bines were evident on many of them. Thirty-year old women had wrinkles and white hair. The only sounds you could hear were those of footsteps and screaming children. As the procession approached the center-city, the appearance drastically changed.

The grey, dull, and crumbling poverty was suddenly replaced with glass super-tall structures that reached up into the heavens. The streets were clean, and the sidewalks lined with shops. At every street, glamorous fountains were used as signs, and beautiful imagery of the king's heroics was displayed on all of the buildings. The procession stopped at the tallest building in the city. The king's palace stood 3200 feet tall, and had 214 stories. On the 33rd floor, a large balcony was available to serve as a lookout center for the royal family.

The king, Mufasa II, came out on to the balcony in full royal garb. His queen, Saravi, stood next to him with her head bowed submissively. The people stood looking up, waiting for the king to speak. Eventually, he began.

"Why are you still standing? Why do you look me in the eye? Bow your heads, get on your knees, submit to me!"

Mufasa sighed. Two soldiers came on to the balcony, holding the nation's flag. The flag had a black background, with a golden lion covering most of the foreground. Surrounding the lion, were eight red stars. The king continued.

"Today is the day that you will meet your future king, ruler, and overlord. Y'all will treat him with the same respect as y'all do me. When you see him, you will treat him better than your own child, as he is more powerful, and important than the filth that you spawn. I present to you, my son, Simba."

An elderly priest slowly proceeded to the balcony, holding Simba in his arms. The priest walked to the edge, and held out Simba for the world to see. One man in the crowd was not so thrilled. He stopped bowing, and stood up. "This is infamy! You are a disgrace to humanity, and I wish you were never born! Down with the monarchy!"

Mufasa, for several moments, said or did nothing. Eventually, and still silent, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a pistol. Raising it, he shot the man who dare question him. With a thunderous roar, the king said, "You are dismissed! All caught out after dark will meet the same fate as this rebel." With that, he stormed back into the skyscraper he called his palace.

In the 154th floor of the said skyscraper, a man sat in thought by his holo-televison, which displayed an image of the fire. This was the only man in Pride Rock who did not attend the presentation. He was also the only one who could get away with it. The elevator in his room opened.

"What can I do for you Zazu?"

"Taka, you've outdone yourself this time. How could you miss the presentation?"

"I will not submit to that tyrant of a brother."

"Well he's coming, so prepare your plea for innocence."

With that statement, Zazu turned around and stormed back into the elevator. It was 3 hours before Mufasa made his grand entrance into the apartment. "My wife and I didn't see you groveling like the other worthless peasants. Would you please care to explain?" Taka glared at his brother. "I will not grovel before either of you before democracy and welfare are restored to this country. You abuse your power Mufasa, and I don't like it!"

Mufasa smirked. "My brother the idealist. What a pathetic sight it is to see you try to dictate how I should run MY country." His face darkened, and grew much more intense. "If you ever do something like that, I will make the last minutes of your life an endless stream of pain and torture." He slowly strutted back to the elevator, and walked inside. Once his brother was out of earshot, Taka said. "Why do I hold off my asylum in America? Why do I even try to reason with him?" Taka sighed deeply, and slumped back into his recliner.

**So that is all for now. What do you think about this story so far? Please let me know in the reviews. See all of y'all next time!**


	2. The Beginning

**Well, the time has come for the next chapter. For sensitive readers, this story will only get darker before it gets lighter, so in the words of Scar, "Be prepared." I've done enough blabbing, so on to the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THIS**

_Intolerance is itself a form of violence and an obstacle to the growth of a true democratic spirit. _

_-Mahatma Gandhi_

"Mr. President, General Reglan is here to see you." The most powerful man on the planet looked up from the Rubix Cube he had been fiddling with. "Thanks for letting me know. Send him in, as there are urgent political matters that we need to discuss. The aide nodded, and ran out of the Oval Office.

General Betwernus (Betty) Reglan walked into the Oval Office, ready for a long and tedious conversation. He sat, facing the president in anticipation.

"Good Morning General."

"Same to you, sir."

"I think we both know what we have to talk about."

The general paused in thought. "The Pridelands?"

The president nodded. "Correct. More specifically, the reign of King Mufasa."

"He's a tyrant. We have to topple him, and restore some form of human rights."

"I agree Betty, but we have to be smart about this. We can't just send thousands of American boys in there to be massacred. It has to be at the right time, when the enemy least expects it."

The general sat, thinking of a strategy. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he spoke. "Start with guerilla attacks, and a lot of them. We need government buildings attacked, official vehicles bombed, and plant land mines around the military bases. We wait for a leader for the people of The Pridelands to rally behind, and then we launch an all-out attack. We'll invade from Croatia, D-Day style, and then press north toward Pride Rock. We'll also have troops move southward from the NATO base we have outside of Copenhagen, and they'll meet for a large siege of the capital. We move in, and place the leader I mentioned earlier on the throne, but under a constitution and the authority of a Senate."

The president smiled. "That's why I called you in. You're a genius! Operation Venom is a go. You're dismissed." The general saluted, and quickly scurried out of the room.

_12 Years Later…_

In the wealthy area of Pride Rock, a 14 story building rose from the street. All this building contained was a school for the children of the government elite. The 7th floor of the building contained a 7th Grade History class. Inside this class, a boy sat with his head lying on his hand, obviously bored. This was no ordinary boy, however. This boy was the Crown Prince of the Pridelands, Simba.

"So who can tell me what year our glorious leader took the throne?"

The room was completely silent. Nobody dare raise their hand, in fear of answering wrong. "How about you Simba? Do you know the answer?"

Simba perked up. He knew the answer, but was not used to being called on, as that was not what his father had told him he would have to do. The prince swiftly reached into his pocket, pulled out a buzzer, and pressed the button in the middle.

Almost immediately, two masked soldiers entered the room, carrying a small bag. The teacher, startled, asked. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

The soldiers said nothing, but put the bag over the head of the teacher. He tried to struggle, but they had a very strong grip on his neck. The soldiers swiftly dragged him out the door, and closed it. Soon after, a gunshot echoed throughout the room. One of the soldiers opened the door, and walked in.

"Class dismissed."

The class sprinted out of the room chatting up a storm, leaving Simba and one other student as the last ones out.

"Simba, what was that all about?"

"Nala, it's illegal for teachers to call on me. I can ask to be called on, but if they do it without my consent, they are to be executed."

"Isn't that…barbaric?"

Simba shrugged. "It's what my dad says should happen to anyone who disrespects his son. He said he's going to show me the entire kingdom later."

Nala nodded. "Well, I'll catch you later!"

Simba smiled. "Bye Nala!" He then sighed. Nala was his best friend in the world, and he secretly had a crush on her. The prince decided to return home to get some sleep so he could be ready for the big day he had next.

Morning came quickly, and Simba woke up eager to see the kingdom he would one day rule. He rushed to the room of his parents, but the both of them were still asleep. He tugged on Mufasa's foot to wake him up.

"Dad! Wake up! C'mon! You said you'd show me the whole kingdom!"

Mufasa grunted, disgustingly scratched his behind, and said. "I'm up! I'll show you the friggen kingdom, but stop being so perky, jeez."

It took the king about forty-five minutes to be ready to show his son the dictatorship he ruled. Mufasa put his arm around Simba, and proceeded to lead the prince out to the balcony on the 33rd floor of the Palace Tower.

"You see Simba? Everything the light touches, is our kingdom."

The young prince's eyes gleamed with amazement. "Wow! Everything? Even the shadowy place across the seas?"

The king grew serious. "Not there. You must never go there Simba, as they are the epitome of evil." His face then lightened. "You see, we all play a part in a Circle of Life. You, me, the animals, and even the accursed peasants."

Simba looked confused. "But don't we rule the peasants?"

The king smiled. "You see Simba, when we die, we become the dirt. The peasants eat the dirt. Circle of Life, bitch."

Simba grinned. "Wow! I can't wait to be king!" The current monarch laughed. "There is more to being king then getting your way all the time, and…wait, never mind, there isn't more." They both laughed, and returned to their apartment.

Simba arrogantly strutted into the elevator, preparing to visit his uncle. His father had told him to flaunt his position in his uncle's face as a test of loyalty. The elevator stopped, and Simba saw his uncle sitting in his favorite chair, smiling.

"Hi Uncle Taka."

The kindly man smiled. "How is my favorite nephew today?"

Simba groaned. "I'm your only nephew."

"All the more reason to make you my favorite! So what can I do for you?"

Simba arrogantly smirked. "My dad showed me the whole kingdom today. And I'm going to rule it all!"

Taka smiled, and thought to himself. _Perfect. This is my best chance to have some influence on the boy. _He then spoke. "Indeed you will, but you have to rule it the right way."

Simba looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know how your father really rules the kingdom?"

Simba shook his head. "No. I'm usually holed up inside all day."

Taka's face grew glum. "I hate to tell you this, but your father is a tyrant."

Simba stared at his uncle, shocked that he would say such a thing. "What? No he isn't! How could he be a tyrant?"

Taka stood up, and walked to his nephew. "On the day you were presented, your father killed a man for not bowing before him. He purposely denies medical and food aid to the citizens so he can be richer. He holds political prisoners in death camps that are located in what was once Germany, and he's abused your mother."

Simba looked at his uncle with tears forming in his eyes. "No…no…no, no, no. This can't be true!"

Taka sighed. "I'm afraid it is, and you're already like him."

Simba burst into all-out tears. "What? No! I can't be!"

Taka glared angrily at Simba. "You ordered the death of your teacher simply because he called on you! Tell me, is that fair or just?"

Simba cried for a long time, letting his guilt and sorrow flow out of him like a river. Eventually, the stream of tears ended, and the prince looked at his uncle with steel resolution in his eyes. "What shall be my redemption?"

Taka grinned to himself, and looked down at his nephew. "Nothing for now, but promise that you'll restore democracy once your king, restore power to the citizens!"

Simba sighed. "I shall." With that, he stood up and returned to the elevator.

**Wow. Can Simba just not avoid being used by others around him whether for good or bad? Tell me how I'm doing, where you think the story should go, and any other comment you have in the reviews. Thanks for reading, and I will see you for the next chapter!**


	3. The Gathering Storm

**Time for the next chapter! Readers, I'd really like it if everyone who reads this chapter would kindly leave a review, so I can know what to improve on, and whether this story is a complete waste of time or not. I've done enough blabbing, so on to the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_No dictator, no invader, can hold an imprisoned population by force of arms forever._

_-J. Michael Straczynski_

The crown prince of The Pridelands wandered through the streets of Pride Rock in total shock. The young boy pondered the words of his uncle.

_Your father is a tyrant…_

_Death camps…_

_Murdered…_

He had believed his uncle at the time, but he now thought that perhaps Taka had exaggerated the situation. Simba had now decided that while his father had done some things that he necessarily would have, but it did not mean he was cruel by any means.

Simba smiled, realizing that this conclusion pleased him. However, he unknowingly entered the outer city, a place the prince had never been, and he was repulsed by what lay before him. Citizens lay strewn about the sidewalks, all of them bone-thin and near death. Several of the so-called homes had a large red x painted on to the door, a symbol of The Plague. "How could my father allow this? This is awful, inhumane, and…" He couldn't go on, as he was too aghast by the view surrounding him.

"It's unholy isn't it?"

Simba turned around to see his uncle walking toward him. "Why do these people live this?"

Taka sighed. "This is what I meant by your father being a tyrant. Not only does he allow this to happen, he actually prefers it."

Simba was on the brink of tears. "Why? How could one human be so cruel to another?"

Taka put an arm around the boy's shoulder, and looked into his nephew's deep brown eyes. "Because he considers them inferior, and that he believes that he has a divine right to abuse them."

As Taka finished his sentence, an elderly woman slowly stumbled toward them. Her hair was pearl white, tattered, and messy. She had two large rags tied together in order to form a shirt, and her pants were made out of the remains of a blanket. She wore no shoes, and her bony feet were oozing a mixture of pus and blood. She stopped in front of them, and held up a frail hand. Simba gently took her hand, but she collapsed to the ruined cement road anyway. She tried to form words, but was physically incapable of speaking. Her eyes gleamed at Simba, sparkling with an emotion the prince did not know these people could even posses in their situation. Hope. She knew who he was, and what he thought about their living conditions. The woman's eyes slowly closed, and she stopped breathing.

Simba could not handle this and cried next to her body. There was sadness in these tears, but another emotion dominated. Anger. Eventually, the prince stopped crying, and stood up.

"When I become king, there will be a massive monument dedicated to this woman." The boy sighed, and continued. "Two days ago, I was a child oblivious to the horrors outside my little world. But in two days I've aged ten years. You're right Uncle, my father is a tyrant, and he must stand trial for his crimes."

Taka nodded. "What did your father tell you about America?"

Simba sighed. "That it's a shadowy place that I should never go. Why?"

"I'm on your father's death list. It's only a matter of time, and I need to escape soon, and America is the only place I can go. Your father lied, America is no paradise, but it's thousands of miles ahead of what you see here."

Simba nodded in understanding. "I'm going to tell him exactly what I think about how he rules this kingdom. He may be a tyrant, but he won't kill his own son. What he will do is banish and disown me. Then, I'll probably join you. If I can't find you, I'll sneak aboard a cargo ship and see where it takes me."

Taka placed a finger to his chin, and then nodded. "Sounds like a decent plan."

The two of them turned around, and left to return to the home that the crown prince now loathed.

**That's all for now! PLEASE don't forget to leave a review. I'll update whenever I can, and I'll see all of you next time. Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story. Bye!**


	4. Escape

**Time for the next chapter! I'd like EVERYONE who reads this chapter to kindly leave a review. I've only gotten one, and I'm beginning to wonder if this story is just a waste of time. I know I'm nagging, but I'd really like to know what y'all are thinking. Well, I've done enough blabbing, so on to the chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives._

_-John Lennon_

Simba let out a deep sigh as he approached the office of his father. He was wearing a plain green t-shirt, blue jeans, and was carrying a large travel bag. He was about to knock when he heard two voices on the inside.

"Taka! How dare you corrupt my son with your filthy philosophy!"

"The nation is already in ruins and I can't let it escalate any further! Plus, unlike you, I actually care about what kind of person my nephew is going to be!"

"You bitchy maggot! He's my son, not yours! By default, I know what is right for him."

"Obviously not! You want your son to be a ruthless dictator like yourself?"

"You son a bitch! HOW DARE YOU QUESTION YOUR KING?"

"I question you because you are NOT my king. You are a tyrant, and an obstacle to human rights."

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HUMAN RIGHTS!"

"Well then there is something seriously wrong with you, and your philosophy."

**BANG. BANG. BANG.**

Simba stood by the door now completely petrified with shock and horror. Suddenly, the knob turned, opening the door, and King Mufasa stormed out completely ignoring his son. The prince tip-toed inside, terrified for what he might see. His intuition was correct. Sprawled on the floor and lying in his own blood lay Taka. Three bullet holes were apparent in his chest.

The young prince ran to his uncle's side, praying for just a small spark of life. There was none, and for the second time in just two days, Simba cried next to a dead body. After a half hour of letting his emotions out, the prince stood up. His clothing was stained with blood. By looking deep into his eyes, all you could see was hate and determination.

The prince sprinted back to his room to prepare. He dyed his auburn hair black, and buzzed it from shoulder length all the way down to where he was almost bald. He changed out of his bloodstained clothes. Now, he wore a grey sweatshirt his uncle had given him, and he also put on a different pair of jeans. Then, he began writing his note. After three hours of pondering, tears, and effort, the note was complete.

_Dear Mother and Mufasa,_

_I have left the Pridelands in the hope of finding a better future for myself. For the first time, I visited the outer city and I was aghast with what I saw. I was considering leaving even then, but the ruthless murder of Uncle Taka was the last straw. I'm ashamed to be the future of a tyranny such as this, and I need a new start. But don't get me wrong, I WILL RETURN, and when I do, the reign of Mufasa II will have met its end._

_ Your ex-son,_

_ Simba_

Simba folded up the letter, placed it beside his bed, picked up his travel bag, and left the building. Putting the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, the former prince took a last look at the bustling shops and industry around him, knowing just much of a lie all of it was. Slowly but surely, the clean shops and well-paved streets faded and were replaced with the poverty, desperation, disease, and death of the outer city.

"My entire life was a lie. I'm still having issues absorbing all of this."

Simba let out a sigh, and a single tear trickled down his left cheek. He had been forced to grow up so quickly. The three days since his carefree childhood felt like three decades. He tried not to look at the people strewn about the sidewalks, as all of them reminded him of the woman who died holding his hand.

Simba did not know where he was going, as he had been to these areas only once. All he knew is that he had to get to a port, and he had been told in geography that the nearest port to Pride Rock was forty miles to the southwest in a little town called Vikalta-Schlipots.

The boy looked at his compass, hoping it would lead him to his personal River Jordan.

**That's all for now! I probably won't update until I get a few more reviews, so be sure to leave one after reading. I thank all of you very much for taking the time to read my story. Till next time!**


	5. The Birth of a War

**Got some reviews, so that means another chapter for all of y'all. Yay! When all of you are done reading this chapter, don't forget to leave a review! I've done enough blabbing, so it is time for the chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_Now the first step has to be taken, the step toward democracy. This step is full of risks, and requires trust on all sides. We don't know where it will lead. But if we just stand still, we will have no chance of escaping the violence._

_-Daniel Barenboim _

"DAMN IT TAKA! YOU RUIN MY LIFE EVEN IN YOUR DEATH!"

The queen of the Pridelands heard the scream, and quickly ran towards her husband, who was standing in their son's room holding a letter. _Speaking of my son, where the hell is he? _The queen paused at the door. "What is the matter my lord?"

The king's dirty, unshaven face shriveled up into a sneer. "Taka. He managed to corrupt my son with his dirty lies. My son is trying to flee the country! MY SON IS CALLING ME A TYRANT!"

The king calmed down slightly. "Wife, read this letter. That is, if you know how. Women really shouldn't be reading."

Sarabi sighed. "Yes sire, I am literate." _Thank you, my son. Thank you for creating an opportunity for a better future. A better future for all of us. Be safe, my son. I love you…_

_I love you…_

Simba spun around, as he could've sworn that he had heard the wind speak in the voice of his mother, but as expected, there was nothing. The pre-teen let out a deep sigh. He had now been traveling for nine hours, and he was exhausted. Pride Rock was slightly visible far to the northeast, but Simba never looked back. The thought of his old home depressed him too much.

The former prince scanned his surroundings. The majority of the area was built of hilly plains, without too much wildlife. Occasionally, he would pass a small shack usually made of wood, dirt, and grass. Some of these shacks had the deadly red x painted on the door. The prince simply looked down at his feet and continued his journey.

_Meanwhile…_

"I WANT ALL AIRMEN ON THE LANDING BAY PRONTO! IF ANY OF YOU LOSERS ARE CAUGHT LATE, YOUR PUNISHMENT WILL BE 1400 PUSH-UPS!"

The cadets soon filed into the landing bay, ready for what their commander was going to brief them about. However, there were two unfortunate souls that were late.

"WHAT A SURPRISE! WE HAVE AIRMEN TIMON GARCIA AND PUMBAA D'VESTOS FINALLY JOINING THE CLUB! WHY IN THE LIVING HELL ARE YOU TWO IDIOTS LATE?!"

Timon pushed his way to the front, and shouted. "What? Were we supposed to report wearing a Hello Kitty t-shirt and a pair of freaking boxers_?"_

The cadets burst into laughter, leaving the first-class airmen in charge of the facility seething with unadulterated anger.

"HOW DARE YOU QUESTION YOUR SUPERIOR!"

"Well, after I smelled your breath, it appears that I am YOUR superior when it comes to daily oral habits. Jesus Christ! Get some mouthwash or maybe brush your damn teeth."

"I WILL HAVE YOU COURT MARTIALED FOR INSUB…Wait, never mind. I have a better idea." The first class airman paused. "You and Pumbaa are assigned for a solo mission to The Pridelands. You are to bomb any military you see, and you are to help any civilians. Do you two morons understand me?"

Timon and Pumbaa nodded quickly.

"DISMISSED. AND YOU'LL BE LUCKY IF THE DETAILS OF THIS MEETING DON'T GET BACK TO GENERAL REGLAN, WHO I ADD IS THE SECON-IN-COMMAND OF THE ENTIRE AMERICAN MILITARY!"

All of the cadets quickly scurried away from the wrath of their commander.

**Well, that is all for now. I know this was short, so I'll try to make the next chapters longer, but no promises there. Don't forget to leave a review. Thank all of y'all for reading, and I'll see you next time. Bye y'all!**


	6. Signs of Liberation

**Well, it is time for a morning update! I hope all of y'all enjoy this chapter, and PLEASE don't forget to leave a review. Just some prior warning, Pumbaa is going to be very OOC in this story. Here, he is going to be WAY more intelligent than Timon. I think that I have done enough blabbing, so on to the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING!**

_On the battlefield, the military pledges to leave no soldier behind. As a nation, let it be our pledge that when they return home, we leave no veteran behind._

_-Dan Lipinski_

"GARCIA! D'VESTOS! WAKE THE HELL UP AND REPORT TO THE DEPLOYMENT BAY IMMEDIATELY!"

Timon lurched from his slumber, his vision and hearing still impaired. "Sir, you want us to deploy to the banana bay?"

Their superior's face was a deep, bulging red, and you could almost see the steam exploding out of his ears. To prevent a much more violent situation, Pumbaa marched up to Timon and slapped him in the face with a sock.

"Pull yourself together man! Do you WANT your ass to get court martialed?"

Timon stood up. "Not particularly. I'm up now, and I'll be at the deployment bay in five minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, Timon finally walked into the specified area.

"Garcia, I'd yell at you, but at this point, you being late is the only thing I would expect." The commander let out a deep sigh. "Your mission today is relatively simple in terms of context, but its execution may be quite a bit more challenging. You two will pilot a twenty-four seat MAC-5 chopper into The Pridelands. There, you will shoot any obvious military personnel that are visible to you. Also, you will pick up any healthy citizen that requests asylum in the United States. This will be your final mission because you two will be honorably discharged in one month's time. I may hate y'all, but you are good pilots. Are there any questions?"

Timon and Pumbaa quickly shook their heads.

"Good. Now get in the damn helicopter!"

The twosome quickly obliged by climbing into the helicopter. Pumbaa spoke into the microphone. "Hawk to base, hawk to base, pilots secured and takeoff ready on your signal."

"Base to hawk, we'll start countdown."

"Ten."

The GPS radar in the chopper turned on.

"Nine."

The engines turned on.

"Eight."

The many controls became active and turned to manual.

"Seven."

The wheels folded back in to the underbelly of the chopper.

"Six."

The weather radar became active."

"Five."

The rope was cut from the truck connecting to it.

"Four."

The weapons array became active.

"Three."

The survivor basket was moved in.

"Two."

The door was closed, and the blades began to spin.

"One."

Helmets were placed on the pilot's heads.

"Launch. Good luck on your mission."

The chopper slowly rose from the ground, and made a right turn. "Pumbaa, was that the right way?"

The other man nodded. "Yeah. The base is in Florence, and The Pridelands are to the east so the turn was fine."

The chopper had a slick red coat, with black lining on the sides. It was about seventy-five feet in length, and about ten feet in width. The inside was completely black, with cushioned seats for passengers. There was a machine gun on each side of the chopper, along with a bomb compartment on the bottom.

Timon and Pumbaa piloted their craft across the Mediterranean Sea, and the two were awestruck with the beauty of the water. The sun's rays gave it a beautiful, shining gleam, and the water was a sapphire blue.

Eventually, the two pilots hit land, and were again awestruck, but this time it was awe due to the poverty that they saw. There had not been any military bases yet, but the death and desperation was numerous.

"Pumbaa, look for signs of life. I'll take sole piloting duty of the chopper."

Pumbaa nodded, and took a long and detailed look at the scene outside the window.

"Hey Timon."

"Yeah."

"There is a kid down there, and he's wearing nice clothes, and he does NOT look malnourished."

**Well, that is all for now. I will update this story whenever I can. PLEASE don't forget to leave a review, and I will see all of y'all next chapter. Bye!**


	7. Sweet Freedom

**Time for another update! I'm loving the positive support I've been getting, and if you have ANY questions or comments, please leave them in the reviews. I think I've done enough blabbing now, so on to the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others._

_-Nelson Mandela_

"Pumbaa! I already forgot our freakin orders! What the hell are we supposed to do?"

Pumbaa placed his palm on his face and shook his head. "We are to bomb all military outposts and grant asylum to healthy citizens. The kid down there looks decent enough, let us ask him if he wants to be free."

Timon smiled and put the microphone near his mouth. "Hey kid!"

Simba looked up to where the voice had come from. He saw the large helicopter in the sky, unmoving, but simply staying afloat. "Yeah. What do you want?"

"How does freedom and basic human rights sound to you?"

The former prince sighed, and looked down at the ground. "Pretty good. Especially after what I've seen here."

"Excellent. Now get in the damn basket once it gets down to ya!"

Pumbaa grabbed the survival basket the borrowed from the Coast Guard, tied the rope attached to the basket to a large pole in the center of the chopper, and began to reel the line down. It was a windy day, making the process a lot more tedious than normal, but the basket eventually reached the ground.

Simba climbed in the basket first, and then put his travel bag on to his lap. As Pumbaa began to reel the line back on to the chopper, Simba heard a strange noise in the wind. _Well done. _Simba pondered the words. He had heard a lot of them lately, and the former prince wondered what their meaning was. The wandering of his mind ceased when the basket was transferred into the helicopter.

"Ya alright kid?"

"Yeah, I think so? Who are you?"

"Well, my name is Timon Garcia, and the guy who reeled ya in is Pumbaa D'Vestos. We are pilots in the Air Force of the United States of America, and it's our mission to rescue people like you. Wait, do you have any diseases that we should know about?"

Simba looked at Timon, puzzled. "Uh, no. Why do you ask?"

Timon laughed nervously. "Um, just asking!" He paused for a second, and then continued. "So what's your name kid?"

"Simba."

Pumbaa, a much more educated person than Timon, now spoke. "Your parents named you after the crown prince?"

"I am the crown prince! Well, that's not true. I WAS the crown prince."

Timon looked puzzled. "And what the hell would change that?"

Simba looked to be at the brink of tears. "Through several…unfortunate…events, I learned that my father was an evil tyrant. I realized that I just couldn't live in this country anymore, so I was trying to make it to the sea so I could take a boat to America."

Timon sighed. "Sounds like a rough life kid. Well, we'll take ya back to our base and see what happens from there."

Simba nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem, kid. No problem."

The journey back to Italy was one that would last several hours, so to try to pass the time, the trio made some small talk.

"So what part of America are you guys from?"

"Well, I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Pumbaa was born in Detroit, Michigan, but he spent most of his childhood in Pittsburg."

Simba looked puzzled. "So how did y'all two meet?"

"In the Air Force silly! When we're discharged in a few weeks, we're gonna move in together into my mansion in Fort Myers, Florida."

Simba's eyes widened in understanding of the situation.

They finally landed back at the base in Florence, and the base's commander approached the two airmen.

"How fared the mission?"

Timon responded before Pumbaa could even open his mouth. "There weren't any military bases or actions around, but we were able to rescue a kid. But this just ain't any kid, he's the crown prince!"

The eyes of the commander narrowed. "And why do you think this?"

This time, Pumbaa was the one to respond. "Well, for one, he said his name was Simba, which is the name of the crown prince. He also was wearing very good clothes, which are only worn among the ruling elite. He also spoke in disgust about his father."

The commander shrugged. " Seems reasonable. We will need to get him an ID. I'm not going to put him in foster care, and you two are going to be discharged, so I'm going to make you two his legal guardians. In exchange, you will be discharged immediately as opposed to a few weeks." The commander held out his hand. "Deal?"

Timon shook the hand of his commander. "Deal. And it was a "pleasure" serving under you."

**That is all for now! Just out of pure curiosity, are any of you readers reading the quotes I am putting up in the beginning of all of the chapters? Let me know whether you are or aren't in the reviews. Thank all of you so much for taking the time to read this chapter, and I will see you whenever I update. Bye!**


	8. Acclimation

**Well, the time has come for another chapter. I love the reviews I am getting, and I'd like EVRYONE who reads this chapter to leave a review. Also, be sure to look at the quotes as they leave subtle hints about the chapter. I've done enough blabbing, so let us get on with the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_America is a nation with a mission, and that mission comes from our most basic beliefs. We have no desire to dominate, no ambitions of empire. Our aim is a democratic peace-a peace founded upon the dignity and rights of every man and woman._

_-George W. Bush_

Simba was currently located in a small, plain room inside an Air Force base in Florence, Italy. The mind of the former prince was wandering aimlessly, returning to the life it left behind, and wondering about the future. The boy was pulled out of his thoughts when Timon and Pumbaa entered the room.

"Hey kid. We've got some news for ya."

Simba's eyes widened, and his head perked up. "What? What is it?"

Timon smiled. "We're adopting ya kid. You're goin with us to live in Fort Myers."

Simba grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and his inner kid gleaming past his mature shell. "Wow! I don't how I will ever be able to thank y'all for kid."

Pumbaa chuckled in amusement. "Don't mention it Simba. It is the very least we can do knowing the struggle you've gone through." His face then grew serious. "We need to take you too get an Identification Badge. This guy is gonna ask you a bunch of questions. They're not hard, but answer honestly."

Simba nodded, and he followed his new guardians out the door of the room. They led the former prince down a massive corridor, and there were several cells on either side of the boy. They were traveling through the prison. Simba noticed that the prisoners were quite disheveled and the stench of tobacco ran through the area.

Eventually, the corridor took a sharp turn to the left and the trio entered yet another hallway. Suddenly, Timon and Pumbaa stopped dead in their tracks, and Timon pointed toward a door to the left.

"They're in there, kid. Go get dem! Just remember to answer dese questions honestly."

Simba nodded, and slowly turned the knob to the door, and he stepped quietly into the room. Facing the boy was a man sitting at a large desk. He had jet-black hair, equally black sunglasses, and was wearing a tuxedo. Several computers surrounded the man, and he was typing on one of them.

"Good morning. I shall be asking you several questions. Just answer them honestly and everything will run smoothly. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Question one, what is your first name."

"My name is Simba."

"Now what is your surname?"

Simba pondered this for a while. His family name was Cod, but he wanted to cut any association he could with his father. In the end, he decided to go with the maiden name of his mother.

"My surname is Voltava."

"Thank you. Who is your father?"

"Mufasa II Cod."

"Good, now who is your mother?"

"Sarabi Cod nee' Voltava."

"Good job. How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"And what is your day of birth?"

"December 11, 2257."

"Where is your place of birth?"

"Pride Rock, Pridelands."

"And where do you currently reside?"

"Fort Myers, Florida."

"Who are your current guardians?"

"Timon Garcia and Pumbaa D'Vestos."

"Uh oh. I'm sorry. Now to get back on topic, what is your ethnicity?"

"Caucasian."

"What is the color of your hair?"

"Brown."

"And your eyes?"

"Also brown."

"What is your dominant hand?"

"I am ambidextrous."

"Thank you for your cooperation. Your identification evaluation is complete. Your information is now secured into our database. Your guardians will be here to retrieve you. Have a nice day."

Right on cue, Timon and Pumbaa knocked on the door. The ex-prince walked back out to them, and they proceeded to lead Simba to the beginning of his new life.

**That is all for now. I will hopefully have the next chapter up sometime tomorrow. Thanks to all of you for reading, and don't forget to leave a review. See you next time!**


	9. A New Home

**Well the time has come again for another update! I'd like everyone who reads this chapter to leave me a review, so I can know how I have been doing. Well, I think I have done enough blabbing, so on to the story.**

_No matter where you put me, I don't care if it is North Carolina, Florida, California, New York City; I'm going to be who I am._

_-Chris Paul_

"Well, we should be pulling in to Fort Myers in the next ten minutes, so please return to your seats, put on your seat belts, and prepare for landing. Thank you for traveling with Federal Eagle Airline, and we hope that we see you next time."

For the first time in his life, Simba was about to experience the landing of an airplane. The flight itself had been about six hours, and was relatively smooth for the most part.

As the plane began to descend, the former prince began to feel worse then he ever had in his entire life. His ears popped, causing Simba to almost completely lose his hearing. All of the moisture in his mouth was completely eliminated, leaving it like the scarred earth in drought-stricken California. His stomach plunged and in its place was a feeling of awful nausea.

Eventually, the feeling ceased, and the ex-prince's stomach returned to normality. His guardians led him off the plane into an indoor center of shops and restaurants the likes of which he had never seen. Then, he heard a strong Brooklyn accent to his left.

"Never seen an airport kid?"

Simba shook his head. "Nope. My father barely let me out of our apartment in Pride Rock. Is all of America like this?"

Pumbaa nodded. "Most of it anyway. There are a few areas you may want to avoid, but most of the country is even better than this!"

"Yeah! In most places in America, you can get a freakin' donut for less than five bucks. Damn! These airports really nickel and dime you to death."

Pumbaa sighed, and placed his face into his palm. "Timon, you are the heir to an oil tycoon. Why are you complaining about the price of donuts?"

Timon sulked, and said nothing as the trio continued their journey to the elusive parking lot. Eventually, they arrived at a large Mercedes, and they all climbed in. Pumbaa drove, as Timon was without a license. The reason for this was because he "accidentally" spilled coffee on a cop who pulled him over for speeding. What a great role model!

"Hey! I detected some sarcasm in there!"

Sorry Timon, but even the narrator needs some entertainment. After about forty minutes of driving, the group arrived at a large house with the beach as its backyard. Large amounts of palm trees surrounded the home, almost shrouding it in green.

"Well, here ya go kid! Home sweet home!"

Simba walked inside and he was stunned by what he saw. There were twin living rooms, both of which had views of the beach outside. There was a large balcony that could double as a patio. There were enough bedrooms for each of the trio to sleep in alone. In the center of the home lay a kitchen, which would probably serve as a meeting place. They didn't have any permanent neighbors, as all of the homes nearby were vacation homes. Simba chose his bedroom, and he collapsed on to exhausted from the events of the day.

_Meanwhile…_

"Mheetu, are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to Nala! I can't live here anymore! I hated it before Simba went missing, but now Mufasa has gotten even crazier!"

"But where will you go?"

"The guy on the cargo ship says he knows our Uncle Reggie, and that he lives in a place called Fort Myers."

Nala began to cry. "I don't want you to leave!"

"Don't cry sis, you are strong, and you will be okay. Even if I am a million miles away, I'll always be there for you. We're twins! How could I not be?" Mheetu sighed. "Are you sure that you don't want to come with me?"

Nala nodded. "I can't leave yet. Maybe someday, but not yet."

"I understand. I love you Nala."

"Be safe, brother. I love you too…"

_The next morning…_

Simba woke up with a huge yawn. He looked over at the clock beside him. 11:25 AM. He stretched and struggled to get out of bed. Eventually, he succeeded, and he walked into the kitchen. Timon and Pumbaa were already sitting at the table.

"Heya kid. Ya sleep well?"

Simba nodded. "Very. So what is for breakfast?"

"Well, what did ya have back in Pride Rock?"

"Well, usually, my breakfast was broiled salmon basted in a green caviar vinaigrette, which was then covered in exotic spices made in a place called Utah, and then topped with crushed pecans."

"Kid, if ya want to live with us, ya got to eat like us, and here in America, our usual breakfast contains eggs, bacon, and juice, so that is what we are having."

Pumbaa placed a plate containing the items mentioned previously in front of Simba. The former prince held up the strip of bacon, unsure of what to do with it.

"Eat the friggen bacon already! It is good for for ya soul!"

Simba cautiously took a bite out of the meat. To say that he loved it would not do this moment justice. Simba smiled. It seemed that American cuisine would be quite satisfactory for him.

**Well, that is all for now. I will have the next chapter up either tonight or tomorrow morning. PLEASE don't forget to leave me a review. Again, it will only improve my writing. I think I've done enough blabbing, so I think I am going to check out of the writing hotel now. Bye!**


	10. Reunion

**Have a little bit of a window of time, so why not post the next chapter? Don't forget to leave a review once you are finished reading. I think that I have done enough blabbing, so on to the story!**

_Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you then the limo breaks down._

_-Oprah Winfrey_

Mheetu sat in the loading bay of the cargo ship in absolute misery. The boy was consumed with absolute misery. The location lacked a proper heating system, and thus was chilled to the bone.

He could not recall how long he had been in the bay. Time is an illusion in the pit of blackness the vicinity was. Mheetu could hear the water slam against the bottom of the vessel, trying unsuccessfully to pound it into submission.

After more time in this dark, freezing hell, Mheetu began to wonder if he would even survive the journey. He had already used up most of his provisions that the cargo man was kind enough to give him, and he was prohibited from going to the deck to ask for more. Mheetu knew he wouldn't have asked for more even if he were allowed. He felt that it was impolite.

Unexpectedly, a burning sensation went through Mheetu's eyes, and he lost all of his vision.

"Hey! We're about to dock into Fort Myers! Get your shit together so we can keep this process moving!"

Mheetu turned his head to the direction from which the voice was coming. His vision returned, and he noticed the lights were on and that the captain of the vessel was the one who had just spoken.

"You are looking at me like a confused butterfly, I said to get your shit together kid!"

Mheetu jumped up in surprise. "Yes…yeah…sir, I'll get on that right away!" The boy grabbed his travel bag and rushed up the steps on to the deck of the ship. The first thing he saw was large skyscrapers towering over the ocean and beaches, and lush palm trees covering everything else.

"Welcome to Fort Myers. Your uncle should be waiting for you in the Management Center.

Mheetu hopped up on to dry land, and he saw an older, balding man with great stature walking toward him.

"Uncle Reggie?"

The man smiled and hugged the former Pridelander. "Hey nephew, it is great to see you okay."

"It is nice to meet you Uncle Reggie! So where are we going?"

"I have a home on the beach not hard from here. You'll like the neighbors. They're a couple of eccentric former Air Force pilots. They also told me they adopted a kid around your age. Maybe the two of you could be friends."

Mheetu sighed, and followed his uncle. He didn't think that his self-enforced exile would be improved at all by friends. He simply thought that no kid would be able to understand the situation that he had come from.

_Meanwhile…_

"Wake the hell up kid, we've got dem visitors coming'!"

Simba groaned, and rolled over in bed. "Do I really have to?"

"Hell yeah! If YOU don't look good, that makes ME look like a bad parent!"

As if you didn't already look like a bad parent.

"Hey!"

Shut up Timon, I speak the truth. Anyway, Simba stumbled out of bed and eventually got himself in mediocre condition. He walked to the kitchen table for breakfast. Pumbaa was already sitting down, enjoying his meal of frozen pancakes and milk.

"Morning Simba. Timon didn't drive you to the brink of suicide?"

Simba laughed. "Nope. Not yet anyways."

"Good. You're faring much better than I did when that idiot woke me up. Anyway, what can I get you in the way of breakfast?"

Simba put his thumb to his chin in thought. "Toast and juice should do the trick."

"No problem. I'll have that out for you quick."

Simba enjoyed his meal, and a few hours after breakfast, the chime of the doorbell rang throughout the home.

"Pumbaa! Get the freakin door! If you don't I'll have to do a spell check on your face!"

Simba face-palmed, then looked up to Pumbaa. "Is he always like this?"

"You have no idea, Simba. You have no idea."

Pumbaa quickly scurried over to the door and opened it. "Hey Reg! How've you been faring?"

"I'm doing fine Pumbaa, thank you. This is my nephew."

"Tis a pleasure. Excuse me for a second."

Pumbaa rushed over to Simba, what was fussing with the TV remote.

"Our guests are here."

Simba walked over and saw his new neighbors at the door. The younger one was incredibly familiar.

"Mheetu?"

"Simba?"

"How on earth did you get here?"

"On a cargo ship! How about you?"

"He and Timon rescued me from the hellhole back home. This is so unexpected!"

"I know! I thought I'd be meeting some bratty surfer-kid!"

"Totally. Is Nala still in The Pridelands?"

"Yeah. I tried to get her to come with me but she couldn't bring herself to leave Pride Rock. She said she might someday."

Timon now decided to make his grand entrance.

"HOW IN THE EVER MERCIFUL F#CK DO YOU TWO KNOW EACHOTHER?!"

Simba laughed. "Timon, this is Mheetu. He and his twin sister were my two closest friends back home in Pride Rock. I don't know how but both of us managed to escape!"

"Oh. Well that makes complete sense. SHOULDN'T SOMEONE OF MY LEVEL OF INTELLIGENCE BE ABLE TO DECIPHER THAT QUICKLY?"

Pumbaa let out a deep sigh, and the group began not only a long conversation, but a long friendship as well.

**Well, that is all I'm going to write for now. I will have the next chapter of this story up some time tomorrow. I thank all of you so much for reading my story, and it would mean a lot for everyone who reads this chapter to leave a review. See all of you next time! Bye!**


	11. Dawn of an Era

**It's bright and early, and I've got another chapter just waiting to be read. When you're done, don't forget to leave me a review! I think I have done enough blabbing now, so on to the story!**

_There's no doubt West Point impacted who I am…It had an enormous emphasis, not only on military aspects, but character development. Whether it's the honor code, or the interactions you have, both with the cadet leadership and the academy leadership, every place you are is a character test._

_-Mike Pompeo_

"Mr. President, General Reglan is here to see you."

The president let out a deep sigh. "Can this wait at all? I'm watching daytime television, and Jason is about to find out who his biological father is."

The aide rolled his eyes. "I'll check with the general, sir."

"_Jason. I hate to tell you this, but I'm your father."_

"NO! WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE MARCO?"

"Mr. President, how about you get your ass out of that damn soap opera so we can discuss important political matters."

The president's cheeks grew red with embarrassment. "Oh…um…Hi Betty, I mean General Reglan."

Reglan rolled his eyes and slumped down into a chair facing the most powerful man on the planet. "I think we've found our Alpha for Operation Venom."

The president's eyes widened. "Really? Where is he? Who is he? When can I meet him?"

"Yes, he's in Fort Myers, and he is Crown Prince Simba. He fled The Pridelands and he's living with two former Air Force pilots. You can't meet him for a long time."

"And why in the living hell can't I?"

"Because the prince is twelve years old. He couldn't be of any use whatsoever to us yet. Let us give him another five to ten years. Who knows? He might even do our job without us telling him to!"

The president stroked his chin. "Yes, his age would make things difficult. I consider your plan satisfactory. General, you are dismissed. I need to finish my show."

The general shook his head, saluted, and exited the Oval Office.

_Six Years Later…_

"Now for our Fort Myers High School valedictorian, and graduating with full honors, Simba Voltava."

Simba scurried up to the stage wearing the stereotypical graduation garb, and he eagerly took the diploma that was presented to him. The ex-prince then joined his other classmates on the stage.

"Now for our last graduate from the Class of 2275, but most certainly not least, graduating with honors, Mheetu Morhi."

Mheetu gracefully walked up to the stage and received his diploma, and then stood next to Simba in the line of students.

"That shall conclude our ceremony. You may now return to your motorized vehicles."

Reggie, Timon, and Pumbaa eventually managed to locate Simba and Mheetu in the chaos of the post-graduation football field. When they had breathing space, Simba was the first to speak.

"So what the hell do we do now?"

Reggie shrugged. "I don't know, but I really feel like a burger right now."

Mheetu laughed. "A burger does sound nice right now." He then looked down at his clothes. "I do want to get out of these first, though. This thing is as itchy as hell!"

Simba laughed. "I couldn't agree more, my friend.

_Meanwhile…_

"Corporal Morhi, do you have anything to report?"

"No. Our bastard king is being lazy as usual. If Mufasa lets anything slip, you'll be the first to know."

"Thanks. Just keep doing what you're doing Nala."

"No problem. Morhi out."

Nala put away her phone, and returned to the skyscraper in which the king lived. She had a Taser disguised as deodorant for protection. She entered the office of the king to give him the daily report. There were still the remnants of a large puddle of blood on the floor.

"Ah, hello Nala. Anything interesting happen in my glorious kingdom?"

"No your majesty, all seems well at the moment."

"That is good. That is very good." He stood up and began to approach her. "But there was something far more important that I wanted to talk to you about today."

A worried expression began to grow on Nala's face. "And what is that?"

The king came even closer, and smirked evilly. "Us."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Sarabi is delicate. I married her because she was fertile, but now she has lost that attribute as well. You however are different. You are young, and you are strong. You will be a great queen."

"No, Mufasa, I won't stand for this."

"I am your overlord, and I ORDER you to be my queen."

"Not on my watch, bitch." Nala kicked the king in his privates, and then took her Taser to his chest. She did not move the Taser from the king's chest until he had lost all signs of consciousness. Nala then began to run. Where? She did not know, but what she did know was that she had to flee the nation.

_Two hours later, in a country that cares about human rights…_

"Hey kid, you've been keepin' secrets. Ya never told us where you're going to college!"

"For the last time Timon, you can't call me kid anymore. I'm 6'7, weigh 230 pounds, and I could beat you into a pulp."

Timon chuckled nervously, and then took a bite out of his burger. "But seriously, where are ya goin to school?"

Simba sighed and looked over to Mheetu. His friend gave him a silent nod.

"Well, Mheetu and I decided that we are going to go to West Point together."

Reggie looked shocked. "Are y'all crazy?"

"As if the Air Force wasn't bad enough!"

"Shut up Timon, that was all your own doing."

"You shut up Pumbaa!"

Simba stood up authoritatively. "Well if Mheetu and I don't get military training, how on earth are we supposed to reclaim The Pridelands from the tyrannical grip of my father?"

"Us going to West Point is the only way to save our homeland."

Pumbaa sighed. "Though I may not like your decision, I completely agree with it. I don't know about Reggie and my moron friend, but I'll be there to support y'all every step of the way."

"Yeah Pumbaa, but couldn't they just do something safer? How bout joining the mafia?"

Mheetu sighed. "Our decision is final. We've already booked a flight to New York City. It leaves in a couple of months. From there, we'll take a bus to West Point."

Reggie slumped. "I share the exact same opinion as Pumbaa. The two of you must do what you must."

Dinner was unusually silent after that conversation.

**Well, that is all for now. PLEASE don't forget to leave me a review. I'll have the next chapter up either tonight or tomorrow morning. I'll see all of y'all next time. Bye!**


	12. Graduation

I found that I had some free time so that means that y'all get another chapter. I'd really like it if everyone who reads this would kindly leave a review. It doesn't take long, and it will only improve the story. I think I have done enough blabbing, so on to the story.

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING

_The first virtue in a soldier is endurance of fatigue; courage is only the second virtue._

_-Napoleon Bonaparte_

"_Mheetu! Don't leave!"_

"_I'm going to make you my queen!"_

"_You have no choice…"_

Nala lurched up, having just awoken from her nightmare. She let out a deep sigh, and stumbled out of bed. Four years. It had been four years since she had fled Pride Rock. If felt like it had only been four days."

"All military personnel must report to the briefing room. Repeat, all military personnel must report to the briefing room."

Nala rolled her eyes. "Another average day in the Pridelands Hammer of Democracy." She had fled to Palermo, where her superior had welcomed her to the main fighting force with open arms. She had since earned a promotion to sergeant.

The former Pridelander scurried to the briefing room to hear the day's schedule.

_Meanwhile…_

"CADETS! YOU ARE DISMISSED!"

The West Point cadets let out a resounding cheer, all of them throwing their hats into the air, temporarily turning the sky white. Among these graduates were a former prince and his best friend.

"Well Mheetu, I think this officially makes us soldiers."

Mheetu laughed. "Simba, you were a soldier on your first day here. You DID graduate first in our class."

"Well Mheetu, I'll have you know that seventh ain't too shabby either!"

The two friends shared a hearty laugh until the academy's director approached Simba.

"Captain Voltava. I'd just like to say that it was a sincere pleasure having you at my academy."

"Thank you general, but I have to ask two major favors of you."

"Anything for the finest cadet I've ever seen!"

"One, I'd like to resign honorably from my position as Captain. And two, I'd like a military transport for Mheetu and I to Palermo."

"I'd be happy to take care of both of those for you. Your flight will leave in an hour." The general paused. " Your highness." The commander smirked, and walked away.

An hour later, Simba and Mheetu were waiting in the landing bay of the Academy in anticipation for their plane to arrive. Eventually, a small fighter plane, with an exterior loaded with American flags landed. The two friends were shocked by who the pilots were.

"Timon? Pumbaa? You guys are our pilots?"

"Hell yeah, kid. Ya didn't think we'd let ya go hurdling off into war by yourselves did ya?"

Mheetu now spoke. "We didn't want you risking your own lives just for us!"

"Eh, bullshit. We'd do it for ya any day of the week. Except maybe Monday."

The foursome laughed, and Simba and Mheetu climbed into the aircraft. Pumbaa tossed each of them an assault rifle.

"Catch. If we see any enemy aircraft, it is your job to shoot them down to the ground. We aren't exactly being subtle about who we are."

Eventually, the plane lifted off the ground, and began to speed off to Palermo where a new start for The Pridelands would hopefully begin.

**Well, that chapter concludes the first section of the story. The second section will primarily cover the war and its battle, but will also focus on a budding relationship. Take a wild guess on who it is between! The second section will still be on this story, and will not be a separate story, so come back here to look for those chapters. Don't forget to leave a review, and I will see all of y'all for the first chapter of the second section. Bye!**


	13. Arrival

**Well, it is time for the very first chapter of the second section of the story. PLEASE don't forget to leave me a review when you're finished with the chapter. I'd be very happy if I got at least a couple of reviews before I post the next chapter. I think I have done enough blabbing, so on to the story.**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_I started to make a study of the art of war and revolution and, whilst abroad, underwent a course in military training. If there was to be guerrilla warfare, I wanted to be able to stand and fight with my people and to share the hazards of war with them._

_-Nelson Mandela_

Simba and Mheetu stared at a complex military base, shaped like a hammer, and began to advance toward the front entrance, which was chained shut. Timon and Pumbaa followed closely behind them.

A guard stood motionless at the gate, not even blinking in order to see everything.

"Halt! State your business with us!"

Simba said nothing, and pulled out a folded letter from his pocket, then handed it to the guard. The guard's eyes widened, and he unlocked the door, and then motioned inwards.

"Right this way your highness. If they're…" He motioned to Mheetu, Timon, and Pumbaa. "With you, they may enter as well."

The entire group was led inside, eventually coming to a desk that had a portly man sitting behind it.

"Private, who on earth are these people and why are they standing in front of me?"

"Commander, I think this letter should explain everything in greater detail than I could."

The private handed over the letter to his annoyed commander, who began to read its contents. His eyes widened as well, and he looked over at Simba in absolute shock.

"Well, it is a pleasure to finally meet you GENERAL Voltava, or should I say Your Highness." The commander smirked. "I'll judge you by who YOU are, and not who your father is." He paused, and walked over to a telephone that sat nearby. "Send Sergeant Morhi to escort the general and his allies to their rooms."

Mheetu looked over to Simba. "Morhi? That's my last name! There is no way in hell that could be Nala! Could it?"

Simba shrugged. "I suppose it is a possibility, but I wouldn't count on it if I were you."

As soon as he finished that statement, a very familiar-looking young woman entered the room. Like Mheetu, she had long brown hair that was tied into a ponytail. Her sapphire blue eyes glowed in the light.

"Good morning. I'm Sergeant Morhi and I'll be taking you to your rooms."

Mheetu let out a cheeky grin. "Long time no see, sis."

The sergeant's face grew no anger. "That is no way respectful to a fellow soldier!"

Mheetu sighed. "Nala, the reason I said that is because I am really your brother."

"Mheetu?"

"Who else would I be, sis?"

Nala squealed and hugged her brother as tight as she possible could.

"I missed you so much!"

Mheetu laughed. "I missed you too Nala."

Nala began to grow puzzled. "So if you are Mheetu, who is that really hot guy over there?"

Simba's face lit up with a smile. "Well Nala, it is quite flattering that you consider your childhood best friend attractive."

"No way. This can't be true! SIMBA?"

Simba laughed. "The one and only. I've been in America with your brother for the last decade! We were neighbors for six years, and then roommates at West Point for four."

"But your father said you were dead!"

"Did he? Guess the old bastard saw my letter."

Mheetu looked puzzled. "What letter?"

Simba smirked. "Oh, before I left, I wrote a letter telling him EXACTLY why I was leaving and what I thought of his tyrannical rule!"

Nala slapped his arm in shock. "Are you crazy? That was so stupid! What were you thinking?" She leaned in closer. "But it was very brave."

Timon rolled his eyes. "Can ya feel the love getting ready to burst? Jesus Christ!"

Mheetu laughed. "For the first time ever, I have to say that I actually agree with Timon!"

Pumbaa's eyes widened. "Now that…is a shocker."

The entire group burst into laughter, and Nala began to lead Simba and company toward their rooms..

**That is all for now! Battle scenes should be starting to pop up in the next couple of chapters! Thank all of you so much for taking the time to read my story, and I really appreciate it. Don't forget to leave a review when all of you are done reading. I want to bathe in the reviews! Just kidding, but seriously, review. I think that I have done way too much blabbing, so I think that I am once again going to check out of the writing hotel. See you next time!**


	14. Council of War

**Time for another chapter! As I said before, this part of the story will be mostly about the war, with shorter relationship building chapters in between. Don't forget to leave a review when you are finished reading. I think I have done enough blabbing, so on to the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_The object of a war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his._

_-General George S. Patton_

Wearing a general's uniform, Simba walked in to the meeting room for the very first gathering of the Council of War. The other members stood up at the prince's entrance, and he nodded in return. Then, the commander spoke.

"Hello Your Highness, and thank you for joining us here. I'll introduce you to everyone."

He motioned first to a short, portly man with a bald head and a large, red goatee. "This is Brigadier General Mikhail Pontovich, a Russian who volunteered to assist us in our cause."

Pontovich gave Simba a salute, which was returned by the prince. The commander then pointed to another man who was wearing sunglasses and had his feet on the table.

"I know you are already acquainted with American military juggernaut General Betty Reglan."

Reglan chuckled, and gave his greatest student a smile. The commander moved on to a young woman with long blonde hair with streaks of red dyed into it.

"This is Colonel Jessica Rowland Thomas, the most bloodthirsty out of all of us"

She glared at Simba. "No offense newbie, but you are only in your position because of who your daddy is."

Reglan gave her a stunned look. "You know he just graduated first in his class from West Point Military Academy, and is the best strategist I have ever seen, right?"

"Whatever."

The commander rolled his eyes, and motioned to an older man with balding white hair.

"This is General Mehmet Akbar. He fought on the democratic side against North Korea in the Second Korean War. He also served in the failed attempt to retain Helsinki, and single handedly saved Moscow from Mufasa's army."

The old soldier smiled warmly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Your Highness. General Reglan always speaks so highly of you."

Simba smiled back. "Thank you sir, it'll be an honor serving with you."

The commander moved to a very muscular man with jet-black hair. "This is Major Jeff Kratz. He's the drill sergeant to the lower ranks."

"Drop down and give me twenty!"

The commander rolled his eyes. "Calm yourself Kratz, he outranks you." He paused, and motioned to the last member of the council. "And you know Mheetu."

Simba sat down in the last remaining seat. "Let's get down to business. We've consolidated our holdings here in Sicily, but the time to attack is now. While this is a great facility, I don't think it can be our base for military incursions into The Pridelands. This is why I suggest that we launch our invasion from the North, most likely starting at our NATO base in Copenhagen. We'll advance on Helsinki, and once the city is retaken, that can be our base for military ventures southward."

Reglan smirked, eager to test his student. "That is a good framework, but how would we take Helsinki?"

Simba smirked. "It is quite simple, really. We send in drones to scout out the area, list the city's strengths and weaknesses, and map out the topography. At the city's weakest point, we send in the armor to break the enemy forces at that location. When their line is broken, we have planes bomb their headquarters, and we send trucks carrying a dozen soldiers each into the city. We drive out the enemy, and raise our flag. We'll also offer the chance to defect to our cause. Remember, the majority of these soldiers are conscripts. They might not be as willing to fight for my poor excuse of a father as he thinks they are. I expect to see at least a few defections for sure!"

General Akbar nodded in understanding. "That's brilliant. Reglan, you were right about this kid. He is a strategic genius!"

Simba smirked. "I appreciate the support. We move to invade in three day's time. I will personally lead the attack. A soldier fights better knowing his commander is fighting right along with him. Reckless? Maybe, but it boosts morale." The prince stood up. "Excuse me, comrades, but I have to go make some extra preparations. It was a pleasure meeting with you."

Mheetu could only shake his head. "And to think that three weeks ago, he threw a temper tantrum because I ate all of the cheese puffs."

**Well, that is all for now. PLEASE don't forget to leave a review. Leaving reviews are good for your soul. Just like bacon. Well, I will see all of you next time!**


	15. Battle of Helsinki

**I think I can upload one more chapter until I give up. I'm only getting about 1 review per chapter now, and it's disheartening to say the least. Thank you VERY much to all that have reviewed, but I'd say I'm pretty close to abandoning this story, so if you want to keep it going, please leave a review. Without further ado, here is the chapter.**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_Revenge only engenders violence, not clarity and true peace. I think liberation must come from within._

_-Sandra Cisneros_

"Drop ships approaching target destination, thirty seconds until deployment."

Simba looked over to his troops, all of who looked to be lusting for battle. The prince knew that he had to knock some sense of morality into them.

"Remember your briefing soldiers! No shooting unless shot upon, no abusing the city's innocent citizens, and let all enemy soldiers who wish to defect do so. Do you understand me?"

The soldiers did not have time to respond as the floor opened up beneath them, sending them down to the battlefield.

Simba wrestled his machine gun from his belt, and then proceeded to open his parachute. The air around him was crisp and cool, almost exactly like a snowy winter night. The prince landed about one hundred feet from the entrance to the city. The armor had already broken parts of the enemy line, leaving a gaping hole in the left flank.

He ran into the city and began to fire. His former countrymen dropped like flies around him, struck by the cold lead of the bullets from the gun. He motioned to some of the other soldiers outside of the city, who then proceeded to follow their commander inside.

Simba began to quietly scan his surroundings. The majority of the city appeared to look like the outer city of Pride Rock, and like Pride Rock, it had a very small area reserved for the rich in the center.

All around him, his soldiers flooded the city in a sea of camouflage, mowing down any who wore the red uniform of Mufasa. Simba and his team slowly advanced into the interior of the city, shooting their way inland, trying to find some place to hoist their banner.

Then, a gleaming opportunity sprung up from the ground. The three hundred foot thirty story Parliament building in the inner city. However, there was a problem. Fifty-five soldiers guarded the large structure, reading to shoot anything that moved.

Using quick thinking, Simba took out his most powerful grenade, and chucked it one hundred feet toward the building. The guards had no idea what hit them.

A massive explosion rung out in the hearing range of everyone inside the city, soldier and citizen alike, and it killed every guard. Simba took the resistance flag from one of his soldiers, walked up to the Parliament building, climbed the large structure, and hoisted it over the entire city.

The battle was over, and the resistance had itself a new base, a base where the future could unfold.

**That is all for now. I'm sorry that this was so short, but I have hit a major writer's block. In order for me to continue this, I'd like to see five reviews from five different readers. Thank you to all who have reviewed, as you have my utmost appreciation. **


	16. The End

**I didn't get the amount of reviews that I wished, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave the story hanging like this. Ergo, this is going to be one last, concluding chapter. Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorite, and followed this story. And a very special thanks to Haraka97, who has been my most prominent reviewer, as well as my very first follower. Be sure to check out his first story **_**The Beginning**_**. I've been reading it and I must say that it is quite good. Well, without further ado, here is the final chapter of this story.**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid, one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory._

_-Douglas MacArthur_

_Two Years after the Battle of Helsinki…_

Simba poked his head out of his personal tank, and scanned the area around him. After Helsinki had been captured, they had slowly begun the conquest of The Pridelands. Mheetu had been by his side for the entire time, and had earned himself a promotion to Major General.

The relationship that had developed between the prince and Nala had budded very quickly. She proved to be a vicious warrior, earning a promotion to major. But the war was almost over now. Simba could almost taste the final victory. Before him lay the city of Pride Rock, and the skyscraper that housed the tyrant that had caused all of this pain, all of this suffering.

"Soldiers! March upon this city! Defeat the cursed tyrant that has ruled this land so harshly. In the name of O Lord our God lead this revolution to final victory!"

A rousing cheer spread across the PHD army as the revolution advanced on his final target. The skyscrapers grew larger and larger as the army marched on to war. The army entered the outer city where many of the shacks were destroyed. Destroyed from either Mufasa's cruelty, or the PHD bombardment.

None of the enemy soldiers in the outer city put up any resistance whatsoever. Some of them hid behind buildings, so surrendered on sight, and some began marching beside the men they were supposed to shoot at.

The exact same situation occurred in the inner city as well, and it wasn't long until they approached the large skyscraper that housed the royal family. Simba himself looked upon the place he had once called home in pity.

"Thus ends to tyrants. You were right Brutus, you were right."

Calmly, and with his machine gun strapped to his back, Simba marched into the tower with his intentions crystal clear in his mind. The lobby to the tower was completely deserted. Debris was scattered everywhere, the windows were shattered, and two dead bodies lay strung about on the floor.

After closer investigation, Simba found that one of the bodies belonged to the king's viceroy, Zazu Nbenhi. The elevator lay open, the door spread about, just waiting to clamp shut on its next victim.

The prince walked in, knowing exactly which button he was going to push. Number thirty-seven. The doors obeyed, and Simba felt the surging rush of the elevator going upward at incredibly high speeds, and eventually, it came to a sudden halt. The floor indicator numbered thirty-seven. The doors opened, the narrow hallway leading Simba to his father's office. He heard noise coming from inside, and the prince pressed his ear to the door, eager to listen to the noise inside,

"SARABI! Why have our armies not pressed the rebels back?"

"There is no army, sire. They have all either defected or joined."

"Then you are not doing a good job!"

"My lord, we have no choice! We have to surrender!"

"NO!"

"Then you have condemned us all to death!"

"SO BE IT!"

"If you were half the commander Simba is-"

"I AM TEN TIMES THE COMMANDER SIMBA IS!"

Simba snarled, and quickly opened the door. "I beg to differ."

Mufasa looked at him, puzzled. Simba let out a sadistic chuckle, and then spat, "What? Don't recognize me, DADDY?"

"Simba! Why the HELL are you here? To kill me? Because that is not going to happen!"

"No Mufasa, I'm not like you. In my country, capital punishment will be outlawed." The prince then stood up to his full height, and crossed his arms beside his back.

"Mufasa the Second of The Pridelands, you are under arrest for war crimes, crimes against humanity, murder, child abuse, and spousal abuse."

He then turned towards his mother. "Hi Mom."

Sarabi could not help but to grin. "Long time no see."

Simba chuckled, but Mufasa was not so amused. He took out a switchblade, and charged toward his son. Simba stood motionless as his father charged, keeping an indifferent expression on his face.

Then, right before the fatal impact would be made, the king collapsed to the ground unconscious. Simba chuckled, revealing Nala's deodorant Taser that he had been hiding behind his back.

"Did that moron really think I'd let him kill me?"

He took out his cell phone, and spoke. "Alpha down but breathing. I repeat, Alpha down and breathing. Get handcuffs and a stretcher to floor thirty-seven immediately."

Simba could only look up. "It's over, Uncle. It's finally over."

_One week later…_

Simba stood on the tower's balcony, a silent crowd before him, completely unsure of what to begin. Beside the king, stood Nala, who had a ring visible on her finger. General Mheetu Morhi covered the other flank, an indifferent expression covering his face. Behind all of them stood the Queen Mother, Sarabi Voltava. King Simba now began to speak.

"I'm sure that all of you don't trust me, or anyone on this stage. If you don't, I completely understand, considering the predicament you have been put through for the last twenty-five years. But you have to at least listen, as great change is coming. Change that will benefit all of us."

Murmurs began to spread around the crowd, all of them curious about what their new monarch had to say.

"Your suffering, abuse, and torture are over. No more will you be limited to the outer city, no more will you be forced to live in poverty, no more will the monarchy dominate domestic affairs, no more will there be a monarchy!"

The crowd gasped in shock, complete silence befalling the plaza.

"Yes, you have heard me right! I will retain my position as king until a Senate, a proper judicial system, and a Constitution can be established. Then, I shall step down and a president will be elected!"

A thunderous roar of cheers befell the monarch, coming from the crowd below him.

"This is the dawn of a new era! The dawn of a democratic Pridelands!"

The cheers continued, as every single citizen shared the glee with one another. Only one person present did not cheer. No, he could only smirk with pride and accomplishment. This man had greying black hair, and emerald green eyes.

**Well, that is the story. Thank you for all who have read this, and be sure to look for my next story **_**Maneless**_**. Don't forget to leave me any final comments that you have in the reviews!**


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